


Mooks and Rooks

by MetellaStella



Category: Original Work
Genre: Even evil has standards, Fantasy, Father-Son Relationship, High Fantasy, Magic, Middle Ages, Tumblr: Writing-prompt-s, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-11-17 16:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetellaStella/pseuds/MetellaStella
Summary: Prompt: "After beating the hero near death, the villain is finally told that the hero isn’t even 18 yet. Now the villain is taking the hero to go fight the gods who had sent him, looking to stop them from endangering kids for their own benefit.”





	1. Exception

The worldly man was not opposed to harming children indirectly through tyranny over their parents. He was not opposed to his occasional middle manager using child slave labor to support his Empire’s economy.    
  
That was just good business.    
  
But when this young man struggled against him with every magic blast, and every punch, gritted his teeth and got up every time even though he was clearly in agonizing physical and ethereal pain, a true appreciation and respect began to niggle at the older, hardened man. This was someone who would make a good apprentice, had he reached him younger. THIS was what he looked for as he indifferently killed other candidates for students throughout the years. If only he had gotten to him sooner, before the gods on their lofty, idealistic, detached-from-reality thrones had poisoned his mind. 

Before he was to reluctantly strike his beaten adversary down, the question slipped from him without thinking.    
  
“How old are you?”   
  
A variety of emotions flew across the younger one’s face. Fear was replaced by confusion, maybe even a little bit of shame. Finally it settled on that steely resolve which the one standing over him was admiring more bit by bit. 

“I’ll be sixteen in three months.”   
  
. . . What?   
  
There was no way. He looked almost twenty. The gods made great proclamations to their followers that they’d chosen him for his ‘heart’ or whatever other claptrap, but he was  **_obviously_ ** not slacking in size or strength. The man sneered, but it gave way again to outright shock. Perhaps they had even given him some sort of elixir to spur his development??   
  
Lost in thought, he nearly missed the cloaked man’s- no boy’s- covert attempt to hit him with a magic dagger. It came from under the cloth where his hands were hidden. He narrowly summoned a protective spell and it glanced off his hand, still sending tendrils of pain lancing up his arm like the ghost of a spiral bone fracture. 

Ah, the young warrior had some wily tendencies yet, and even with frustration coursing through him, the thought ‘a man after my own heart’ still competed for a place. 


	2. The Gambit Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Regarding the length of chapters. This prompt was cross-posted from both the Tumblr account AND their Instagram. I saw it on IG. It has a 2,200 character limit on comments. That's 2,200 **characters**, including spaces, not just Word Count. So I've decided each of these 'chapters' will be sticking to that length for now, since I am still posting on the thread over at IG. I feel like this will give me more motivation to update regularly, and work out those writing muscles!! So these will be drabble length, but they WON'T be disjointed drabbles, they will be continuous in plot/structure. The chapters may get longer in the future. 
> 
> My first entry has officially reached 70 likes! Thanks guys! List of users who are actively following on IG at the end of the chapter.

His enemy on his knees, the man swiftly backhanded him across the face. The exhausted man- _no, boy_ \- didn’t move as the master spoke.    
  
He smiled thinly. “As much as I appreciate initiative, do it again and you’ll be stateside in the Next World relaying your failure to the gods directly.”   
  
Had he knocked him out?    
  
But then the fallen stirred and slowly sat up.    
  
A measuring look. The king figured he was avoiding aggressive gestures on purpose.   
  
“So … if you’re threatening to kill me… otherwise you won’t?” he asked in a genuinely puzzled tone. His magic reserves were almost exhausted after that last trick. It would only take one blast.    
  
The king hadn’t thought further than the sentence. It did sound like he was letting the boy live for the time being.    
  
Could he gain anything by imprisoning him? As much as he’d like a ransom, magicians were difficult to contain, and the boy’d be back to dethrone him someday.    
  
It seemed the best course of action-

He suppressed a snakelike smile. He decided what to do, but he let the silence hang. Better to keep the boy’s apprehension stoked for a little bit. It worked wonders with underling magicians who disobeyed. 

But instead of becoming more nervous as a lesser person would, he sat cross legged and rested his elbows on his knees.    
  
The king waited until he was even more relaxed, then barked out the names of the group of his next in command. He watched the boy jump in satisfaction.   
  
Four robed men walked through the door to the throne room. They had been instructed to wait outside while the master took on the duel from the challenger.    
  
@cami.bri_ @iz.isabela @flowers.and.hearts @cassidyvirginia @a.floransz @invisalove @s_hellman @marie_san17  @nobody._.cares.anymore @queenbirbart @gayanddeadinside @luckyblackcat @cranberryriot @pisces_ace @nekoerica @hinesketchup22 @ricky._crespo @pandoras_pen @mera_luna @the_random_artist0 @xianikaix @spamming_curtains @thegamingaspect @missajthegreat @popkarii @jess.sneks @amaterasu_emi @elementsx1999 @iliketocrysometimes


	3. Empty Threats, Full Threads

“Your Highness? What’s going on?” One of them, in wine colored robes, asked while looking at the very much alive enemy. 

Why did he sound so surprised? It wasn’t the first time he had let a challenger go, though it was much rarer. 

“He is now our prisoner,” the king said crisply. “But he will get the same lodgings as counterfeiters and other minor infractions.”

“What??” another covered in sickly green exclaimed, “Why!!”

“SILENCE!” The magician snapped and red sparks danced across his fingers. It was purely for show- his own reserves were pretty well sapped. Three of the magicians immediately inclined their heads but the highest tier one, dressed in gray with gold thread inlays, studied him. He could see through the threat. 

The king frowned. He _**should**_ be profusely thanking him for agreeing to this duel and stopping bloodshed. _**All** _of them should. But he guessed they were so surprised at this turn of events with the Chosen One specifically, that the usual requisite praise did not occur to them. He’d have to impress upon them later the neglecting of the unofficial duty. Painfully.

But best not to antagonize his ‘guest’ any further. He’d have to play this carefully. 


	4. Raising up and up rising

He didn’t want to appear to butter the kid up. The room he designated was nice, but far below the most lavish in the palace. He considered the servants’ quarters, but that too seemed counterproductive to his purposes.

Still in the throne room, he watched the green robed man repair damages from the fight.

With a grand gesture a huge marble pillar rose. Sweat beaded on him.

He was the lowest rank, and he’d likely stay that way. The king didn’t trust him enough with advanced secrets and the considerable power he already wielded was still probably too much.

The marble clicked into place and the cracks called back their splintered, orphaned pieces. They flurried like sharp, deadly snow and homed in, settling as if circling a drain.

Unbidden, the man began, “I’m still concerned with the threats of uprising in the southwestern region.”

The king didn’t bother to acknowledge him. He had not asked for input.

“That ‘hero’ has stirred up the people- we already have two dead overseers.”

“Their fault for dying,” the king said drolly.

The man clearly wanted to retort, but instead he shook his hands, adjusting the magic flow back to normal. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

He waited a while for the gathering of courage for criticism. Maybe he would let him get away with it this time.

On the other hand, since he couldn’t use magic, using his hands for once would be a nice change of pace.

“You said people should stop dying over this! That’s why we backed down though we could protect you. Why then does it not matter that this outsider has caused death?!”

“You were an outsider once,” the king said, warning in his tone. “Strange that you would use it against the boy.”

“Boy?”

“I believe someone used an aging potion on him.” He told him his age. The other man balled his fists defiantly.

The king let that slide. “Can you imagine? All this damage you struggle to patch together,” he had fun watching the man squirm at his lesser abilities, “and he’s just shy of marriageable age.”

 

 


	5. Sentencing, Lite

“That doesn’t matter!” the man seethed, “he shouldn’t get some special pardon for that!”

Indeed, though he had no first hand accounts of the boy killing anyone in conflicts- the mark of a truly skilled magician- inciting was still a steep crime. And normally, the ruler would deal with that just as ruthlessly as direct death. But the boy had something valuable to offer him. 

“While I don’t disagree, necessarily,” the king strode over to him, “Watch your tongue. Any decision is MINE to make!” He could spare a small measure of magic to amplify his voice in the air, and the man shrank back. 

“Y-yes Your Highness.” 

“Now this region you’re so concerned about. Have the overseers been replaced?”

He already knew the answer, he was just making a point. 

“Yes.”

“Is there any new solid evidence to back up the notion there could be a *large* scale uprising?” 

“... No.”

“Then stop bothering me about it,” the king snapped. “Unless you have that, do not bring it up again.”

Now he turned his thoughts again to aging potions. Physically aging, that is. To date no one had produced anything that could be said to mentally mature a person, though a few had tried. 

He had experimented with potions that would make soldiers stronger and gain stamina. And should a draft ever come up short, he was prepared to turn to artificial aging. But he had a hard time believing such things would be officially sanctioned by the gods, who were all about a romanticized ‘natural order’ and inherent worth of life as it unfolds and other flowery rhetoric that he found nauseating. So was this a bending of the rules, then? Violating their own principles in a situation that demanded it?

He left the man in green without so much as a ‘good day’ and made his way to his chambers.

Tomorrow he would question his challenger. Right now, he felt more tired than remembered being in a very long time, and needed to sleep.


	6. Biting

At breakfast, the boy trudged in, accompanied by the red and green robed men, and plopped himself at the opposite end of the long table. His magic would take at least a week or two to trickle back into him. The king schemed to himself, perhaps he *could* instruct him to exhaust it at a target shooting range . . .

Magicians who lost duels always had a much longer refractory period than those who won, so at least he’d have that advantage. But if he was to try to convince the boy to follow his intentions, he could not use threats and had very little in the way of bargaining power. Threatening other people with harm would tighten down his resolve, he was sure. 

“Is the food to your liking? You can’t have had many well-cooked things to eat on your long journey.”

“Commoners are perfectly good at preparing meals,” the boy bit out. Eyeballs bored into his skull like chewing beetles. “Royal food breeds indolence.”

Ah, the ‘nice’ hero could have a sharp tongue, hm? He didn’t know it was possible to be pretentious in  **_reverse._ ** He resisted the urge to roll his own eyes. Well then, a good thing he also hadn’t broken out the really rich stuff, since he didn’t want  **that** to come off as a bribe, either.

He was curious about the boy’s upbringing after the use of the designation for the general population  **_and_ ** their defense, but instead got straight to what had been bothering him last night. “Whose idea was it to give you an aging potion?”   
  
The fellow magician’s jaw hardened. 

“Come now, boy, I’ve spared your life. The least you can do is give me a harmless bit of information.” It wasn’t harmless- he could easily sway hearts to his side if he could catch the gods going against their words.   
  
The boy crossed his arms and puffed his chest.   
  
“Or are you seriously going to try passing yourself off as just big for your age?”  
  
“I **was** big for my age,” he mumbled irritably.

The king wasn’t sure whether to take that as solid confirmation of his assumption or not. There were other forms of magic that could have these results. 

After that, clinking of silverware was the only sound left. He did not reply to any more questions, even casual ones. Apparently he wasn’t going to share any more. 


End file.
